


guitar hero

by memitims



Series: chicago pd [6]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Police, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 19:15:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2079957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memitims/pseuds/memitims
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ian moves into mickey's apartment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	guitar hero

“You’re a horrible person,” Debbie told Mickey, crossing her arms across her chest and glaring at him, that extra-special Gallagher glare that Mickey had learned to fear.

Mickey made a face. “Excuse me?” he asked, because he was not a horrible person. He was a cop. He saved people’s lives.

“You’re stealing Ian."

He scoffed. “I’m not  _stealing_  anyone. Ian’s moving in with me. To my apartment. Which is like only five fucking minutes away from here, and he can visit anytime you want. Don’t be so dramatic, Debs.”

Debbie rolled her eyes, dramatically.

Mickey lowered his voice, “I heard that Fiona might let you take Ian’s old room.”

“Really?” Debbie squealed. Mickey shushed her.

“She can’t know I told you that, okay? It’s supposed to be a surprise,” Mickey whispered.

Debbie nodded conspiratorially and Ian came clomping down the stairs, a duffel bag in each hand. He stared at them for a second, his mouth lifting up into a small smile.

“The hell you guys whispering about?” Ian asked, dropping his bags into a pile at the bottom of the stairs.

“Nothing,” they replied in unison. Ian didn’t look convinced.

“Okay,” he said slowly, “I just have one more bag to grab, then I’ll be all set.” His eyes slid between them a few more times, before he went back upstairs. Debbie started giggling when he was gone.

“I think he regrets introducing us,” she said.

“His loss,” Mickey returned. “We talk about the coolest shit.”

“You guys aren’t that cool!” Ian yelled, from the top of the stairs. “I caught you two playing Guitar Hero the other night. And neither of you were actually playing the guitar.”

“Fuck you,” Mickey said, because he was good at playing the drums, thank you very much. “You can walk to my apartment, just for that.”  
“But it’s cold,” Ian whined, giving Mickey that fucking puppy-dog look, the one that totally screwed Mickey over and made him realize that he would do anything for this guy.

“I’ll warm you up when you get there.”

“Gross,” Debbie said.

“Mickey,” Ian whined, again.

Mickey threw up his hands in defeat. “Fine, whatever. Get your ass to the car then.”

Ian smiled and grabbed two of his bags and Mickey hoisted the third one onto his shoulder. They said goodbye to Debbie and ventured out into the snowy night.

\---

They dragged Ian’s shit all the way up to Mickey’s apartment, and Mickey complained the whole way because he had to get Ian back for that fuckin’ Guitar Hero comment. He fumbled with his keys for a minute, before getting the door open and slipping inside. Ian followed him, and Mickey glanced backwards, for a second, and it all kinda hit him at once. Ian was moving into his fucking apartment, Ian was gonna be around all the time, not just at work and when they hung out, Ian was gonna be here in the mornings and he was gonna be here when Mickey fell asleep, and Mickey’s life hadn’t really been filled with good things, but he figured this was the best thing he’d ever gotten his hands on.

“Wanna unpack your shit?” Mickey asked, pointing towards the bedroom.

“No,” Ian said, eyes dark and shiny, looking at Mickey like he was fuckin’ edible, “I wanna do other things in your bedroom right now. Specifically, you.” Ian pounced, spreading his hands on either side of Mickey’s head. Mickey swallowed hard. “Unpacking can wait,” Ian said, in that stupidly low voice he reserved just for driving Mickey crazy, and then he kissed him.

“Okay,” Mickey breathed into the kiss, and Ian dragged his hands down to Mickey’s shoulders, walking him backwards towards the bedroom. They worked at each other’s t-shirts, breaking the kiss momentarily to pull them off, and then there was so much bare skin, their chests brushing together, and Mickey wanted more, more, more.

“Ian,” he gasped, as Ian moved to mouth at Mickey’s neck, and he slammed Mickey against the bedroom door, which was closed, of fucking course, so Mickey fumbled behind him with the doorknob until he could get his fingers around it and twist the door open.   
Ian walked him back to the bed, still sucking on Mickey’s neck, and Mickey’s hands were wrapped up in Ian’s hair, loving the sounds Ian made as he ran his fingers through it. They fell down onto the bed, tangled up in each other, and Ian ended up spread out over Mickey, looking down the length of his body and smiling wickedly, like he could still fucking function, like he could still control the faces he made. Mickey was long past that point, too caught up in Ian’s hands and his mouth to care.

“Jeans. Off,” Ian panted against his collarbone, and Mickey didn’t think he’d followed directions so quickly in his life. He started with Ian’s first, fingers fumbling with the button and the zipper, and they brushed over Ian’s hard cock and Mickey felt like he was on fire, especially when Ian started kissing down his chest and working his own hands over Mickey’s jeans. Mickey’s heart was slamming against his ribs, and Ian could probably feel it, it always spoke louder than any words he could ever say, and then Ian wriggled out of his jeans and Mickey copied him.

“Oh,” Mickey said softly, when he felt their cocks press together through their boxers, and it was like he had fuckin’ lightning running through his veins, “Jesus  _Christ_ ,” he added, a lot less softly. “Fuck.”

Ian didn’t say anything back, he just pushed Mickey’s boxers off and swallowed him down, and Mickey’s hips lurched upwards and his hands were still tangled in Ian’s hair and Ian’s mouth was a warm, wet heat that stole the words from Mickey’s throat. Ian bobbed around Mickey’s cock, his tongue twisting and curling, and Mickey didn’t even know what kind of noises he was making anymore, and Ian was goddamn good at giving head, but what he really wanted was Ian inside him right the fuck now.

“Oh,  _fuck_ ,” Mickey moaned, and Ian drew his head up, looking at Mickey curiously, and Mickey gestured towards the bedside table. “Drawer.” Ian nodded and wrenched it open, pulling out a condom and Mickey’s bottle of lube, grinning victoriously up at Mickey. Mickey glared at him. Ian wasn’t touching him and he hadn’t finished the blowjob and Mickey was so in love with his stupid fucking smile that it made his chest hurt. “Get the fuck on with it, Gallagher,” he said, because Mickey was gonna combust if Ian didn’t hurry up.

Ian prepared himself, and Mickey was gonna fucking kill him, Ian was going deliberately slow just to spite him, but then he pushed a finger into Mickey and he forgot all about that. He added another, quickly, and Mickey started gasping, couldn’t even fuckin’ help it, it was Ian, Ian, Ian, and it was too much, it wasn’t enough, and then Ian was pushing into him, filling him up, and Mickey didn’t think his heart could beat any faster, but here he was.

He started fucking Mickey, slow and steady, and his hands slotted into place around Mickey’s waist. His cock pounded into Mickey, unrelenting, and sometimes Mickey forgot how good he was at this, but then Ian reminded him all over again. 

“Okay?” he asked, right up against Mickey’s ear, and he thrust deeper and deeper, and Mickey fuckin’ loved it.

“Yeah-h,” Mickey breathed out, unsteadily, because the world was hazy, and Ian felt so fuckin’ good, his cock driving into Mickey, and then there were fingers on Mickey’s own cock, expertly curling around him, stroking him hard. “So good,” and Mickey might’ve slurred his words a little bit, consumed by red hair and soft breaths and dark eyes and Ian, but it didn’t really matter.

“C’mon,” Ian groaned and he was taking Mickey apart, taking him apart with every stroke, every twist of his hips, “‘M close, Mickey, oh  _god_ ,” and then he came, his rhythm stuttering, and he tugged on Mickey’s cock until Mickey was coming too, both of them breathing each other’s names into the darkness. They fell back against the bed together, panting heavily and Ian was smiling. Mickey couldn’t help but smile too.

“That was awesome,” Ian whispered, like he might shatter the moment if he said anything too loudly.

“Yeah,” agreed Mickey, and he pulled Ian’s arms around him, feeling Ian press his face into the back of his neck and breath deeply. He knew they should probably move, knew they should get cleaned up, but Ian was a warm weight across his back. Usually, this would be the time for Ian to pull his clothes back on, to say goodbye and head back to his own house, the part of the night that Mickey really hated the most. It was okay though, now, because Ian was in his bed and Ian was fuckin’ amazing and Ian was staying.


End file.
